Almost Home
by Night'sBullet
Summary: *One-shot* It's been years since Edward was sent to our world. Now on a cold, wet, December night, a stranger hears exactly how close he is to going home. Based on the song "Almost Home" by Craig Morgan


A/N: Hello good people!! So yeah, I've had this little one-shot idea ever since the series ended, but I never got around to writing it. The only reason it got written was because of my creative writing class. So woot-woot for that!! If you've ever heard the song "Almost Home" by Craig Morgan, then you'll probably be able to get a better feel for this. And for those of you who haven't heard the song, you should totally youtube it. Right now. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and review please to tell me what you think!!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA, or the song in question.

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**Almost Home**

I sigh through my nose; very annoyed. It's the middle of December--the Christmas season--a time when I should be home with my wife and three year old son. But no, instead I am stuck in traffic, after working overtime for _three flipping hours!_ The clock on my dashboard reads 8:07, I've missed dinner. Great. The light finally turns green and I move forward, about three feet. The light has turned back to red. Perfect. I slam my open palm against the steering wheel as my leg starts to rapidly jump up and down. To top it all off, the snow that the weather man has been predicting for about three weeks now, finally decides to fall; heavy, cold, wet, snow. Wonderful.

After half an hour of cursing my luck, my car, my job, the traffic, and Christmas, I finally get through the light. As I turn off on to a less crowded road, something catches my eye. In the alley, behind a couple of garbage cans, is a person. I stop and get out. My clock says its 8:43, I'm already way late, and so stopping to help out somebody won't hurt. It's twelve degrees out, and with this snow, one could easily catch hypothermia and die.

The man has to be a hobo of sorts. He's wearing a very old pair of wool socks on his hands, his pants are too big, and have many holes. Plastic Food Lion bags cover his feet (I can't tell if he has shoes on or not). A winter hat sits on his head, worn so much it has no defined color. And for extra warmth, news papers dating weeks ago cover his body. Not only that, but this guy is _old_. His face is worn with age, his semi long blond hair slightly dulled; he had to be at least 95.

Fearing I'm too late, I shake his shoulder. "Hey, old man, wake up!" I say with a slightly raised voice. After a moment, he opens his eyes; startling me with their deep golden color. The old man blinks once, focusing on me. I speak again. "Old man, can you hear me? Are you ok?" He says nothing as he starts to look around, almost as if trying to figure out where he is. His face falls as he seems to remember. His shoulders sag, and he seems twenty years older. He lets out a small groan and his eyes flutter shut. I shake him again.

"Hey! No sleeping old man. Come on, I gotta get you some place warm and dry, fast." He doesn't move; I wonder if he's fallen asleep again. Or worse. "Old man, hey! You gotta name? A home? Come on, wake up. You gotta give me something to go on." His eyes open again, and find mine in an instant. When he speaks, I'm surprised his voice isn't deeper, raspier.

"I have a name, and I had a home. But I gave that up, did it willingly, and for what? But I didn't have another choice, there never was a choice." His voice is muted, aged as much as his body.

So I have no idea what to do with him. What did he give up; his name or his home? I think the cold has already gotten to him. I sit him up and prop him against the alley wall when he starts to fall back over. I need a plan of action; firstly I need to get him warmed up, so I take off my coat. I know there's an ABC store nearby; if I can get some good whiskey or rum in him, it'll take the edge off the cold, and warm him up nicely. Hopefully that won't mess him up too badly. He looks like a man who's had to learn to hold his liquor. I wrap my coat around him; he neither helps nor hinders me. He's watching me almost lazily. I try asking for his home again, or of any other place he can stay.

"Burned it down when I was twelve. Wouldn't be able to go back, even if I didn't; not now, not ever." He says, almost matter-of-factly. He deftly runs his left hand down his right arm, as though out of habit rather than conscious thought. Well, I still can't leave him out here, homeless or not. I'm opening my mouth to speak, when he cuts me off.

"All I ever had was my brother; I gave my life for him, twice." I decide to keep quiet, the old man's obviously delusional, but maybe he can give me something to go on.

"She always got mad when I broke my arm or leg; called me careless. And I guess I was; after all, who else but a careless person could lose the little they had in under an hour." He's not looking at me, but beyond me; into his past.

"You know, I always hated sitting still. It's partly why we traveled so much; I couldn't stand the little nowhere we grew up in. There was never anything to do, not even a library. But at night, it's all I dream about anymore." His eyes swing back to mine. His hand has stopped moving. I need to wrap this up and get him out of here; but a part of me wants to hear more, hear his story; even if it is just nonsense.

"I dream of them now; my brother, my mom, my father even." He laughs somewhat at that last one; they must have not had a good relationship.

"I dream of the grassy hills and Den barking. And when I approach the house, she throws the wrench I bought her and hits me square in the forehead. She's crying when she greats me, welcomes me home. She was calling back into the house, telling the others I was home, when you grabbed me." He's so forlorn; I figure this is the perfect time to interject. The guy's lips are turning blue, and he's stopped shaking: his body doesn't have the energy (or will) to keep him warm.

"Look, old man you're gonna freeze to death. Let me drive you to the mission; it's only a couple miles away, they'll take care of--" I stop myself when I see him grin at me. It's a grin of understanding, acceptance. It makes my blood run cold.

He says "Boy, if you'd left me alone, right now I'd be with my family again." I can't help the feelings of guilt; though I know I did the right thing. He sighs deeply and shuts his eyes. "You got a family, kid?" He asks. I'm a little stunned at the change in topic, aren't we talking about his family? I rock back on my heels slightly as I think of how worried my wife probably is. I haven't called since I left work.

I clear my throat, "Yeah. Yeah I got a wife and a son; he's three, four on New Year's." He opens one eye half-way. "Where are they? They at home?" he asks. Not sure where exactly he's going with this I answer again.

"Um, yeah, they should be." His eye swings over my shoulder for a second, and he cracks a smirk.

"You sure about that kid?" I don't even have time to look confused when I hear what he's seen. A car door slams shut and I hear my wife calling my name, asking if I'm ok. I rise from my crouch. Why isn't she home, how long have I been out here? I take a step then stop, as the old man's voice reaches me.

"Go home kid; go be with your family. Love them and your life while you can. Believe me; it doesn't take much to lose everything." I turn around and see that he's risen, though still leaning heavily against the wall. He's still smirking at me, as though he knows he has me cornered. I hear my wife approaching, her steps almost drowning out his last words; but I still hear them.

I don't move as he shuffles off into the alley way; and something tells me I'll never see him again. She finally reaches me and turns me toward her.

"Are you alright? Jesus I was so worried! You're hours late, no call, and then I find your car parked on the side of the road! What were you doing?"

I look into her angry, worried eyes, and realize I can never tell her about the old man. Well, maybe I would've, if I hadn't heard his last words. But I did…

_"Man, I wish you'd just left me alone;"_

"Nothing," I say. Because that's what I did: nothing. "Let's go home." I start leading her to the car, not acknowledging her questioning gaze. I open her door and as she slides in I look back to the—now empty—alley. I stare for a moment, then shut her door and get into my own car. I drive off, and don't look back.

_"I was almost home."_

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A/N: Sadness, but that's what the song's like, and the series too. Cookies for anyone who spotted the blatent song references!! Review please!!!!


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